


Black Fists

by kinneyb



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon knew he was asking for trouble when he visited the most dangerous part of the city with his friends. He never expected the troubles would include a tall man with dark hair and a charming smile, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Fists

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever brallon fic please ignore any mistakes i am so nervous

Brendon knew it was a mistake coming along with his friends despite knowing the rumors of the west side. The other parts of the city weren't much, but he at least knew he was safe there, the west side offered no warmth or safety. It was dark, all the buildings lit up with signs that said 'welcome' but the air felt like it was pushing him away, warning him to go back and never come again. He glanced at his friends who were all confidently walking in front of him, oddly familiar with the atmosphere.

He knew if he backed out now they would all make fun of him. After-all he pretended to be capable of anything; he showed that off every night as he chugged alcohol and took any pill handed to him. It was the truth in a way (he really wasn't scared of much) but in a bigger way it was all a lie to make him feel better.

About himself, about the situations he always got himself in. 

Just like this situation. Brendon never would've visited this area on his own, he knew the rumors - knew the vandals lived here, the criminals, the ones any normal society pushed away. The scariest being the reputation of the local gangs; terrifying men mostly, a few women peppered here and there, who did anything to get what they wanted. Just thinking about it made Brendon feel ill.

"There it is," Ryan huffed, interrupting his thoughts, reaching his hand out.

Brendon followed his pointing finger; it was a small joint, not too overwhelming.

Feeling a little relieved, he smiled. " _This_ is the amazing club you bragged about? It looks like a place for mice."

Sarah was the only girl in the group for the night. Her long black hair flipped in the wind perfectly as she quickly turned, a devilish smile plastered on soft features. Brendon laughed. If nobody knew better they'd think Sarah was an innocent girl with a heart of gold judging solely off looks. He knew better, of course. "I think it looks great, small places are always the craziest."

"Uh-huh, and we all know crazy is your favorite adjective," Spencer joked, grunting when she elbowed his side playfully.

At least if he had to be stuck in a scary, new place he was with the people he trusted most. Brendon strolled up, tossing an arm around Ryan and grinned. "Okay, guys, let's go make the most of the night, shall we?" Ryan rolled his eyes and grabbed the arm touching him, pulling Brendon along the sidewalk with the others following closely behind.

The closer they got to the place, the more Brendon regretted his enthusiasm for rushing in.

Small was an understatement, he decided, it was almost nonexistent. When Sarah opened the door, he walked in and immediately felt himself being squished up against strangers. Breasts pushed against his arm, shoes barely missed his feet. He quickly glanced at Ryan, expecting to see the same emotions he was feeling written across his face.

Nope, he was all but jumping with excitement to be there. He liked it, loved it.

His eyes glinted and he squeezed the arm he was still holding. "I think that girl is waving at us."

Brendon wiggled his arm free. "Well I'm not interested." And he wouldn't be - not until he could find a spot where he didn't feel like he was suffocating. Ryan nodded, making a face like he was seconds away from asking a question. "It's okay," he assured him, smiling slightly, "go have fun, I'll be fine alone."

Ryan lingered for a bit longer as if giving him time to change his mind. When he didn't, he finally disappeared in the crowd.

After he was gone, Brendon looked around for a place to get away from the crowds. The club was small but it still looked the same as most clubs he had attended before, just downsized. His eyes landed on a few booths and his heart jumped when he saw a vacant one; bingo. Slipping away from the bodies pressing against his own, he plopped down at the booth and rested his head in his hands. He didn't usually have problems with crowds but then again he was typically partying in bigger clubs that had room for hundreds - this place didn't.

"I got you a drink!"

Brendon looked up just as Sarah sat down across from him. She was holding two drinks, seemingly beer by the color, and gently placed one in front of him, the glass clinking softly against the table. He thanked her, his voice basically drowned out by the sound of the music playing over the club.

"I can tell you aren't feeling it tonight," Sarah said after a minute, sipping her drink. Brendon sighed, circling his glass and watching as the beer whipped around, always almost spilling but never quite going over the edge. Guess he wasn't as good at hiding his nerves as he wanted. But for Sarah this was her little talent; telling how people truly felt despite what they said. "But we go clubbing all the time, why would this place by any different?"

Oh, she still wasn't completely informed. Brendon shrugged. "I'm just... feeling off."

Her eyes glittered with confirmation. "I get it, it's the location!"

Shit. Brendon dropped his eyes from her face, staring at his hands.

"I was right?" She sounded almost disbelieving. "Come on, B, don't be scared - "

He _really_ hated that word. Looking up, he narrowed his eyes. "I'm not scared, I'm rightfully unsettled, Sarah. You know just as well as me that this part of the city isn't known for having the nicest people. I just don't want me - or any of you guys for the record - getting hurt because we decided we needed to go outside our 'comfort' zone or some shit."

Sarah frowned, her perfectly painted lips falling from the usual smile she always dawned. If Brendon knew he didn't have a point in what he saying, he might've just felt like a horrible person but he wasn't _wrong_. Being here meant she could be hurt, too, why wasn't she worried about that?

"If you were that fucking scared, Brendon, you shouldn't have come and ruined the night for the rest of us." she continued, ignoring the way he glared. She hadn't used his full name in a long, long time, always choosing to call him B _unless_  she was angry with him - like right now.

Brendon sat back in the booth. He was really warming up now; embarrassment, anger, he wasn't really sure what it was but it was there right under the surface. He was just looking out for everyone - hell, they told him he was too reckless most of the time and the one time he was trying to be responsible he was getting this kind of reply?

"Fine," he said finally, shrugging his shoulders as he emptied his glass, the harsh burning of beer sliding down his throat and making him feel like he did most nights. Maybe she was right and maybe he was just being too paranoid. "I'll forget where we are and just have fun."

She smiled, her face brightening up just like before. "Good, I'm gonna go dance some then." Sarah jumped up from her spot and adjusted her dress, short and frilly just like all the others, and clapped a hand on Brendon's shoulder, squeezing. "Enjoy yourself, okay?"

Brendon nodded.

"Really," she insisted, her smile turning dirty, "go find yourself a cute little stud and - "

Brendon lifted an eyebrow. "Go before I change my mind and drag you outta here with me."

Giggling, she left and joined a group of men on the floor. Just her type, he guessed, but definitely not his. Leaning his elbow on the table, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand and scanned the club. The one good part about the building being so ridiculously small? He could see almost every person in there from where he sat, no need for digging or searching. He could just wait until he saw a perfect specimen and go in for the kill.

His lips quirked up. Bingo.

Standing off in a corner was a young man, Brendon knew he had to be around his age or younger with bright emerald eyes under messy strands of white hair - actually white, whether he was going for that look or merely bleached his hair a few too many times Brendon didn't know. He was beautiful regardless though and he stood up, knowing he had to try or he would spend the rest of the night alone.

\---

Brendon was a confident man, he really was - sure, he had his faults but he knew he was reasonably attractive and he also knew in all his time of flings he was never turned away. Men, women; they all wanted him. It's because of that he was quick about approaching his potential lover for the night once he was out of his slump. 

When he stopped in front of him, he wasn't too surprised when the man looked at him oddly. "Am I in your way?"

His voice was soft, innocent. Brendon brushed his fingers through his hair and subconsciously glanced around the room. From a few feet away he saw Sarah dancing, _grinding_ against the men from earlier. She spotted him and grinned devilishly upon seeing the man he had approached. She winked, egging him on with a small waving of her hands.

She was a bad example. 

"Not at all," Brendon said after glancing back at the man, smiling, "I'm Brendon. I was wondering; can I buy you a drink?"

The man blinked, staring at him suspiciously. "I'm Danny. I'm sorry but drinking isn't really my thing."

Brendon nodded. This was not going like his usual encounters with pretty boys did, but he wasn't discouraged yet. Just needed to be extra charming. He was good at that. "Well, what about dancing?" He offered, extending a hand. "Is dancing your thing?" he inquired, smiling a smile so sweet he could taste the fake sugar on his tongue.

He watched, waiting. Danny finally surprised him by smiling, placing his hand in his. He felt wonderful; skin as soft and smooth as velvet. Brendon felt himself getting caught up in the moment, already forgetting why he'd been scared of coming here in the first place. It seemed like this club had a few interesting people after-all. "Depends on what kind of dancing."

He grinned, teeth shining under the dim lights of the club. "I was thinking something a little crude."

If he looked offended, Brendon was planning to play it off as a joke (he'd done it before) but when Danny's smile slowly widened and he gently yanked on his hand he realized he had approached the right guy. Danny pulled him along until the pair was taking up the center of the room. The music was the usual stuff you heard in a club; loud, obnoxious but it was also quick with sultry lyrics that got any average person feeling a certain way.

Brendon dropped his hands, settling them on the other's hips and easy as that they started moving. Danny seemed unfamiliar with the movements, the closeness and the touching, but he didn't seem unhappy with it or Brendon wouldn've stopped - drunk or not, he had standards and being a creep was not one.

"You do this often, huh?"

It took a second for Brendon to even comprehend the words he was so caught up in dancing. He shrugged. "You jealous?"

Danny laughed, and Brendon realized suddenly that he wasn't like the usual guys he approached - his beauty wasn't superficial or short-lived. He was truly fucking beautiful, and his laugh was like butter as it reached his ears. "I just met you, sorry but I don't get attached that quickly," Danny said, a playfulness behind soft words, "but I could see it happening."

Flirty, he liked that. 

It continued like that for a few minutes, maybe too long because Brendon was starting to get a little tired, his feet throbbing, when Danny offered him an outing. "Do you smoke?" Brendon lifted an eyebrow and nodded. "Great!" He watched as the man pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his waistband - hiding it, smart - and grinned. "Wanna go outside?"

With a face like that, Brendon never would've turned him away. 

He glanced at Sarah one last time, making sure she seemed fine with her company still - and she did - before slipping out of the door with Danny. The cool air washed over him and he immediately felt relaxed. Sure, he had relaxed a little in the club but there was still an itching there that hadn't been disappeared completely until now. He immediately followed Danny as the boy walked away from the door, finally resting with his back against the wall of the building.

"I really think you seem like a decent guy, Brendon," he said suddenly.

Brendon licked his lips, coming up and gesturing for a cigarette. "Really? You don't seem too bad yourself."

Danny hummed, pulling a cigarette out of the pack and lingering with the white stick between his fingers. "I normally don't feel any guilt, you know?" Brendon furrowed his brows, his hand still extending, waiting patiently for the cigarette. He didn't really understand what he was saying but decided he should let him go on. "I mean, I've been involved in this stuff since I was much too young, but most of the guys we attack aren't, well, _decent_." 

He knew he was screwed before he even saw the arms reaching out for him. Danny had friends, it seemed.

Brendon had the same immediate response as most people; fight, struggle, do anything - do everything. He struggled against the arms firmly holding him from behind, watched helplessly as Danny got closer to him, paused with his face almost touching his own. Normally he would like the idea of a boy as pretty as him being so close but right now he just wanted him as far away as possible.

"Money," he heard.

Of course. Brendon breathed out. "I only have a few dollars on me, man."

Danny didn't seem impressed by that. "Josh, his pockets - empty 'em."

He guessed Josh was the man holding him. He felt one hand go in his left pocket then his right, coming out with only ten or twenty dollars worth of bills. Josh grunted, "he really is telling the truth." Brendon wasn't sure how this stuff worked; would Danny be angry he didn't have more or would he let him go when he realized he was, in a way, useless? He didn't have what he wanted at least.

When he saw a glinting of metal as Danny shifted, he knew the second option wouldn't be happening. His heart jumped, his pace quickened. He never imagined being stabbed, but then again who did? Masochists, maybe. Brendon tightly closed his eyes and prepared for the pain, the agony.

It never happened. He was never stabbed or if he was his adrenaline must've been high as hell cause he didn't feel a single thing. Opening an eye, he peeked at the man standing in front of him. He was still holding the knife, his fingers white from gripping so hard but he was no longer looking at him. He was looking away from him, down the street. Brendon licked his lips, nervously glancing in the direction that now seemed interesting.

"Ah, Danny C'live is on my turf _again_."

The first word that entered Brendon's mind at seeing the new person: tall. He was incredibly tall, his legs and arms long and lanky but he was still poised as he walked, approaching the three men with the smallest bit of amusement on his face. He had a suit on, tailored perfectly, and his hair was slicked back out of the way a lot like Brendon liked doing with his own hair. He looked like he had just walked out of a magazine, or at least he did until Brendon noticed an odd detail - on his hip was a gun secured in a pouch, bouncing against his thigh as he walked.

His heart stopped. Now he was surrounded by _three_ lunatics - how lucky.


End file.
